In The Eyes of a Slave
by Brok3n Sm1le
Summary: Based from the book The Slave Dancer. Originally, this was written as a school assignment, but I liked it and turned it into more. I put more effort into it, and it is told through the eyes of a young slave girl named Trinny that experiences the horrors o


The ship rocked back and forth. I could feel it beneath my feet. I glanced about the hold that we were stuck in, my eyes wide with fright. I can't ever get used to this ship, these shackles digging into my brown ankles and making me bleed. I glanced down and rubbed my index finger against the cold metal, wincing as a pain shot up my thin calf. I sighed heavily, and the ship rolled once more. My stomach rolled with it. I hoisted myself up with the little strength I had, taking in a ragged breath as I scooted towards the woman I had grown the closest to. She was the mother I didn't have, the mother that had died during my birth.

I huddled close to her and she gently pet my head, running her fingers across my greasy locks. "It's going to be alright, Trinny," she whispered in a ragged voice, her eyes glancing into mine with what should have been a reassuring look. It only made me feel worse.Tthe language she spoke settled me, however. The white men that had spoken a foreign tongue, one I, nor anyone else from my homeland, could understand a single word of. I sighed and leaned back into Mother, my head nestled in her breast.

I wanted to be back in my home, in the forests of Africa with my freedom. Back there, I was free of pain and worry. The things about to befall me only scared me even more. I hated this ship. I hated the white men. They had stripped me of the dignity I had once held, the love of life I had once grasped so proudly in my palms. I could feel the tears welling in my eyes, but Mother had told me to be proud. "Don't let the white men see you like this. They'll know they're doing their job if you show emotion," she had said. I believed her, and trusted her. I won't ever let them see me like this. Not ever.

A light fled into our compartment and I quickly wiped the tears of anger from my eyes. I glanced up, staring into the blue of the sky that used to be so familiar. It now seemed so different, as if I had never walked beneath it with a smile on my face eating red berries. As I began to dream about home, a face blocked my vision of the light blue and the soft, cottony clouds. I couldn't see his face very well on account of it was covered with shadows. I shivered slightly as Mother scooted away from me slightly.

"They take everything you love," she whispered to me. "Everything you ever love at all, Trinny."

Her words echoed in my head as two men hoisted us above the hold and onto the deck. My legs swayed beneath me, and I was pushed forward with a heavy shove from behind. I tripped on the shackles binding my legs and I fell, the metal cutting into my skin and allowing blood to seep from the new wound. I lifted my head, and at about that time, I was grabbed by the hair and pulled upwards onto my feet. I glanced up at the broad face of a sailor, who quickly turned away from me to go help others up. I knew what was happening. They were going to dance us.

A boy raised his fife to his lips and let out a jagged note. I stared, unblinkingly, out at the sea as this was happening. I didn't want to dance. I didn't want the sun to shine down on me and leave a comforted feeling in my stomach. I knew the comfort wasn't going to last. Not at all. I wanted to be back in the holds, my face nestled in Mother's breast as the darkness enveloped us once more. I wanted to be away from the watchful white men. Their glances at my naked body made me feel uncomfortable and let the feeling of nauseia rise up into my chest and throat.

Once again, the boy blew on his fife, this time making music. Another man clapped his hands to the tune, though his clapping was not rhythmic in the least. I could hear shackles moving as others began to dance across the deck. Mother passed by me, gently touching my shoulder as she went by. She looked back at me, her eyes pleading me to do as they said. I had seen the penalty for not succumbing to such acts that the white men through upon us. They would take a whip to your back, laughing all the while. I did not want to be humiliated in such a fashion.

I let my feet drag slightly as I followed the moving circle of the others. A satisfied look sat on the sailors' faces and I wanted to spit at their feet and yell at them for disgracing us in this manner. Just because they were white, it didn't mean they were better than us. They only thought such things. I danced to the tune, despite the outrage I felt towards it. My heart beat madly against my chest and tears of anger once again arose in my eyes, a single salty droplet falling down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away. I never wanted to dance for the white men again, and as the gods as my witnesses, I proudly say I'd rather die.


End file.
